


Aftermath

by Luthien



Series: Aftermath [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bystander POV, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-01
Updated: 2001-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthien/pseuds/Luthien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry comes back to Hogwarts the year after he finishes school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Telanu](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Telanu).



> Written in 2001 but set after the end of book 7, so has now been really seriously overtaken by canon.
> 
> A response to Telanu's "Oh, Professor Snape, you sexy bitch" challenge on a ML (can't remember its name. Sorry. *g*)

"Oh Professor Snape, you sexy..."

Ginny giggled before she'd even finished saying the words out loud. They did not suit Professor Snape. Not at all. She looked around, wondering if anyone had overheard her, but this part of the library was still as empty as it had been when she'd come in.

"Oh Snape, my darling, my own..."

This time she was even gladder that there was no one around to hear what she said - or to hear her giggles.

It was ridiculous. The thought of Professor Snape as a sex object - as the object of _anyone's_ affections - was beyond ridiculous. Now that she was seventeen, of course, Ginny realised that all adults had private lives - even teachers. Even Professor McGonagall must have been young once; she couldn't have just been born the Transfigurations teacher and Head of Gryffindor House. Even the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, must have seen and done a few things that didn't involve the school in the course of his long life. She could understand that now, in a way that had been quite beyond her only a few short years ago, when she'd still been a child. It was just the idea of Professor Snape as anything other than a dour, quick-tempered Potions Master that she still had trouble with.

And yet. There had been those rumours at the end of last year, when Harry Potter - her brother's best friend, let's not forget! - had finally vanquished Voldemort. Harry was the hero, of course, but even Ginny - she had been the unofficial official head of the officially unofficial Harry Potter Fan Club (Harry frowned on that sort of thing, which was why the club remained officially unofficial) for a good few years now - even she had to admit that he hadn't achieved victory quite alone. She still wasn't all that clear on the details, which for some reason had never been fully publicised, but she remembered that Professor Dumbledore had figured prominently in whatever it was that had taken place - and, much more surprisingly, that Professor Snape had been involved somehow, too.

Yes, Snape had been involved. That's what people said. She remembered those rumours that had whipped around the school like wildfire - almost as fast as the magical wildfire that had briefly engulfed the castle's extremities at much the same time during the fight against Voldemort. The rumours had started in earnest during the victory celebrations that followed; they had multiplied since. Ginny had always found it hard to believe them, but the whispers wouldn't go away, the whispers that insisted that Professor Snape had been somehow... involved with more than just the fight against Voldemort. It was said that the Potions Master had been involved with one of his pupils - and doing more than just preparing potions together, too.

Ginny had never found out the identity of the student in question, except that it was someone no longer attending the school, someone from the same year as Harry and her brother Ron. It must have been one of those sly Slytherins; she couldn't imagine any of the others welcoming the advances of Professor Snape. Of course, she couldn't imagine Professor Snape actually making any advances to anyone, either... But, just the same, the rumours wouldn't go away. They were on her mind now, as she tried to study her potions text. So here she was, at the supposedly dignified age of seventeen, trying out those silly phrases, trying to work out if there was any way in which they could be made to apply to Professor Snape without making her laugh. Well, at least it was a diversion from the deathly dull Potions text she'd been trying to study - not to mention the pile of books in front of her that she hadn't even looked at yet.

"Almost finished?" a voice asked from right behind her.

Ginny knocked a book off the table in surprise. Of course, it would have to have been the _Treatise on the Manifestation of Animated Characteristics in Inanimate Objects_. The book lay there, ruffling its pages irritably, until she hurriedly bent down to retrieve it. She patted it soothingly for a moment before turning her attention to the person who had spoken.

"I was just coming, Colin." Ginny smiled. It would be hard to find a kinder, more considerate boyfriend than Colin Creevey. Or a less exciting one. She quashed that last, disloyal thought determinedly. "Is everything ready for tomorrow?" she asked brightly.

"Very nearly. The first years are getting a bit over-excited. It will be their first chance to meet a living legend, after all," Colin told her, looking a bit over-excited himself.

"Harry Potter," Ginny sighed, knowing that Colin wouldn't mind. He never did. "It hasn't been the same without him here this year."

"Yeah," Colin agreed whole-heartedly as he helped her gather up her books. "It'll be great to catch up, hear what he's been doing. The famous Harry Potter. You know, sometimes I still can't quite believe that I know him!"

Ginny felt her spirits lift as she contemplated Harry's visit to the school the next day. Apart from anything else that she might feel about Harry's impending arrival, she was more than glad to be given a reason to turn her thoughts from conjectures about Professor Snape's - supposed - love life. Her last thought on the subject, as she hurried back to the Gryffindor common room with Colin, was that the whole thing was probably just a figment of someone's over-active - and twisted - imagination, anyway.

* * *

An almighty cheer went up as the Headmaster led Harry Potter to the front of the Great Hall. The entire school had assembled to welcome him. Everywhere Ginny looked there were excited, happy faces. Except for one, of course. Ginny thought that Professor Snape's ostentatious, long-suffering sigh and muttered "The famous Harry Potter strikes again. Good God. I thought we'd finally escaped all that" must have been audible throughout a good part of the cavernous room.

It seemed so terribly long since Ginny had last seen Harry. For the first time in years, Harry Potter had made no appearance at the Weasley home during the summer - not because he didn't want to be there but because he'd been travelling with his guardian, Sirius Black, in various parts of Europe. Ginny had felt his absence keenly, particularly in the last month before she'd gone back to Hogwarts for her final year. Every so often, an owl would arrive with a message - not Hedwig, Harry's snowy owl, but one of those speedy international long distance postal owls - so the Weasleys knew all about Harry's adventures with the Snow Giants of Northern Norway, and his encounter with the hags in the Black Forest - not to mention his run-in with the vampires in the mountains of Transylvania. Ginny adopted a slightly superior, knowledgable air when the younger pupils ooh-ed and ah-ed as Harry recounted a few details of his recent travels during his short thankyou speech. Mostly, though, she just watched him.

He was wearing new green robes that matched the colour of his eyes. And he was older. It was not even four months since Ginny had last seen him, yet those months had left their mark on him - either that, or the new maturity on his face and in his bearing were the lingering effects of what had happened at the end of the previous school year.

Harry finished the formal part of the reception with a look of relief - he'd always been endearingly modest, of course. He was talking to the Headmaster now. Ginny's seat near the top of the Gryffindor table was in a prime position; she was just close enough not only to see every move Harry made but also to hear what was said as Harry greeted the teachers one by one.

"Professor Dumbledore." Harry looked around at the crowd. "I didn't expect it to be quite this formal - or for quite so many people..."

Dumbledore's smile was kind. "You have to expect that people will want to make much of you for the next little while at least - especially here."

"I'd prefer they didn't, sir. But it isn't my choice, is it?"

"We all have choices, Harry."

"Except when other people's choices stop us from making the choices we want." And he looked, unaccountably, right at Professor Snape.

"Perhaps," said Professor Dumbledore. "Ah, Minerva, there you are." He beamed as Professor McGonagall came forward.

"Harry, my dear." Professor McGonagall went slightly pink as Harry leaned forward to bestow an affectionate kiss on her cheek.

Harry made his way down the line of teachers: plump, good-natured Professor Sprout, the herbology professor; excitable little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher; even Professor Trelawney, the Divination teacher, had made her way down to earth from her high tower for the occasion. She seemed slightly disappointed that Harry had not managed to meet a violent death during his travels in foreign climes.

And then there was Snape.

"Potter." Tersely said and accompanied by a shuttered, unsmiling look.

"Professor."

Harry looked uncertain, as though he were expecting more from Snape. Only for a moment, though. The look passed over his face and was gone so quickly that Ginny suspected that only she, who knew all of Harry's expressions so well, had really noted it.

Professor Snape looked back at Harry with such a venomous glare that Ginny was taken aback. There had always been enmity between Professor Snape and Harry Potter. It was a well-known fact. But what could Harry have done to make Snape hate him so much? If anything, being allies in the final battle against Voldemort should have helped them to some sort of truce.

Shouldn't it?

Harry was still looking at Snape, the uncertain look replaced by something more challenging, questioning - and angry. It wasn't quite like any expression she'd ever seen on his face before.

Ginny was getting nervous. Was she the only one who had noticed? She was afraid they would forget where they were - if they hadn't done so already - and go for each other's throats at any moment.

Shockingly, Snape was the first to look away.

And then she knew.

It was a strange sensation, feeling as though you were rooted to the spot. Really, it was no wonder the Whomping Willow was in a perpetual bad temper, attacking everything that came in its path, if it spent its entire life feeling like this. She was glad she wasn't a tree and that this feeling would pass because... No! Don't think of... Just imagine being dug up by Professor Sprout. Watered daily. Pruned, even...

Her mind babbled on frantically, trying not to think about... about...

She sat there for some time, letting the conversation wash over her. Harry came up to her, finally, and she was vaguely aware of making the appropriate responses as he smiled at her and promised to spend some proper time with her later, and to pass on various messages from her parents and brothers, with whom he'd been staying immediately before coming to Hogwarts.

She wasn't surprised to see Professor Snape sweep from the room at the earliest opportunity afforded him.

She was even less surprised when Harry made some sort of excuse a bare minute later, and hurried off in the direction the Potions Master had taken.

As Harry left the room, Colin turned to her and asked a question. Ginny had no idea what he'd said. She looked at him blankly for a moment, then told him, "I don't know what- I don't- I need to be alone. No, I'm all right, really. Really!" And fled the room.

* * *

Snape had made it right out of the castle and into the grounds by the time Harry caught up with him.

"Severus Snape is a sexy fucking bitch," he called out provocatively.

It was a stupid thing to say. Harry knew it as soon as he said the words. At least it worked, though. Snape stopped in his tracks and swung around to face him, pinning him with a hostile stare.

"I do wish you would not incorporate me into your occasional forays into profanity." Snape's voice sounded pained.

"I'm sorry." Harry flushed, feeling suddenly reduced to the role of schoolboy. "I thought you might enjoy it."

"Why would you think that?" came the swift and curt reply.

"I don't know, really. I just-" Harry paused. If Snape were going to refuse to acknowledge everything that had happened between them at the end of last term there was little point in pursuing the matter. "Nothing," he said at last. Then he burst out, "So, did you miss me at all? Did you even think about when I would come back?"

"I didn't know whether you would come back at all so there seemed little point in dwelling on the subject."

"I said that I would."

"Yes, you did. And I am sure that you meant it at the time. But I knew- You knew nothing else but Hogwarts then. You had experienced nothing of the world."

"Apart from battling the forces of darkness and Voldemort himself pretty much every year I attended this school." Harry didn't try to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He hadn't needed to go anywhere to gain experience of life. It had always come to him.

"You know what I mean. The wider world - the wider wizarding world," he added, correctly anticipating that Harry was about to mention his time with the Dursleys.

"Did you think of me at all while I was gone?" Harry asked, ignoring whatever point it was that Snape was trying to make.

Something flashed in the depths of the dark eyes. Anger? "What do you want me to say?" Snape asked harshly. "That I could think of nothing else all summer? That my mind was consumed with the question of whether I would see you again - or not - every single moment of every day for more than three months? A trifle melodramatic even for you, Potter."

"Harry."

Snape didn't say anything at all then.

"Will you just stop it?" Harry exploded, the overwhelming anger he'd felt in the Great Hall taking him over again. "Look, I never would have gone away if you hadn't made me!"

"I didn't-"

"Oh yes you did! Three months, you said."

"You were gone for more than three months," Snape pointed out sharply.

Harry clenched his teeth briefly, then continued doggedly, "A need for some time apart, you said. A chance for me to see some of the world so that I could work out if my future was really here or if I could find my destiny out there somewhere."

"And did you?"

"I'm back here, aren't I?"

"Yes. You have returned." The black eyes regarded Harry emotionlessly for a moment. "You still haven't told me why."

"Why do you think?"

"You tell me."

Harry noticed then that Snape's hands were clutched together, the skin drawn tight across fingers that dug into each other like white, bloodless claws. Feeling slightly encouraged by that observation, he took a deep breath, then let the words out in a rush. "I came back because I didn't find anything or anyone that I wanted half as much as I want you."

Snape didn't reply at once. As the silence lengthened, Harry's apprehension started to turn into irritation. He deserved some sort of response after taking the risk of opening up like that - particularly after receiving so little in the way of an indication that his declaration was likely to be favourably received. Everything was all wrong! He hated that the old animosity between them had somehow returned, twice as strong as ever; he hated even more that there didn't seem to be anything he could do to get rid of it. Not if Snape - who'd always been Severus in his thoughts, all these months, until today - wouldn't meet him halfway.

Then he realised that the other man was shaking, ever so slightly. Harry moved closer, into the Potions Master's line of vision - and Snape looked away towards the forest. "You know that I-" he said hoarsely, then stopped, cleared his throat, and finally looked Harry right in the eye. "I am glad you came back," he said simply.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was urgent, passionate and demanding, but not gentle. Hot hungry lips, ranging across Harry's face, told the wordless story of months of uncertainty and loneliness and longing that matched his own. Arms came around him, drawing him into a familiar embrace against a long, hard body. A familiar, beloved embrace. The desperate need to touch and be touched overwhelmed him as hands moved over robes, trying to find the secret ways beneath. They pushed against each other, almost in a contest to see who could get closest, until finally Harry just let himself be drawn in, let himself drown in the kiss. Everything was all right again. Everything was as it should be. At last.

It was a long time - an hour, a day, no time at all - before they finally broke apart. Snape was breathing hard, wild colour high in his cheeks. He looked around them, as if suddenly aware of just where he was.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he hissed. "Not here, where anyone might see us."

"Where then?"

"My quarters."

Harry felt the impact of the dark, intense gaze that accompanied those words, right in the pit of his stomach. It was frightening, this thing between them. Neither of them had ever quite addressed it directly, as though to name it would... would, what, exactly? Destroy the illusion? Or make it more real? Perhaps acknowledging it in words would prove to be the point of no return.

No, that wasn't right. They were already past the point of no return.

For some reason, that didn't worry Harry at all.

They set off together at Snape's usual brisk pace, silent and not quite touching, but aware. Terribly aware of each other's nearness. The journey back into the castle seemed interminable.

"You are sexy, you know," Harry said after a while.

A glimmer of self-mocking humour showed for a second in the depths of Snape's dark eyes as he glanced sideways at Harry. "I am sure you would not encounter much agreement were you ever to express that opinion in other company."

"Just as bloody well!"

"Profanity, Potter," Snape warned.

"It's Harry, remember? And I'm not a pupil here any more. You can't stop me from saying anything I like now."

"True, but there is still such a thing as common civility."

"Amazing." Harry tried hard to keep a straight face.

"What?"

"You - taking compliments as gracefully as ever. Some things really don't change."

Snape glared at him.

"Severus Snape is a sexy-"

"Potter!"

"Harry."

"Harry, then."

"See, that wasn't so hard. Severus."

Severus didn't reply, though this time the absence of a response didn't annoy Harry as it had done before. They'd reached the entrance to the Potions Master's quarters. Severus muttered a short incantation and the door opened obediently.

"I'd be very careful about making many more comments along those lines in the immediate future if I were you," he commented to Harry as he paused in the doorway.

It took Harry a moment or two to work out just what Severus was implying - he was still the humourless Snape, after all. Realisation dawned, and Harry looked at him, thunderstruck. "A joke? Was that a joke? Coming from you?"

"I never joke." But there was a definite glint in his eye now.

Harry was still staring in disbelief as Severus gave him a push into the room beyond and followed him in. Harry decided that he was definitely going to have to spend some time finding out what other hidden depths Severus might be concealing.

But not right now.

Neither of them wasted any more time in talking as the door swung shut behind them.

* * *

High above the ground, a young, red-headed woman looked out from Gryffindor Tower. She stared out the window rather blindly, beyond the Quidditch pitch, out over the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest, looking anywhere but at a certain spot in the grounds rather closer to the tower. Anywhere but at the sight of a tall, black-robed form wrapped possessively around another, in green robes the exact same shade as a pair of remarkable eyes that she knew all too well.

Ginny stood there for some time; she wasn't sure quite how long. Eventually, she roused herself sufficiently to realise that some of the other Gryffindors had returned from the reception and were beginning to look at her a bit strangely. She knew that she should move away from the window, that it wasn't fair to Harry to draw attention to... to...

Harry deserved to be happy. No one could dispute that. And, little though she liked the idea, Ginny had to admit that there could be no denying now that Professor Snape made Harry happy.

Her lip trembled. Fiercely, she reminded herself that it was no use crying over what might have been - should have been - when there was no hope left. And besides, there was Colin to consider. Colin, who would come looking for her at any moment. Colin, who understood. Colin, who would probably be far better for her in the long run than- than someone else.

Ginny couldn't stop herself from taking one last, quick look out the window, but the two figures were gone now. She didn't think she really wanted to speculate on where they were or what they might be doing.

She would go to find Colin. At least he loved her. She shouldn't forget that fact. She should focus on it, remind herself of its importance. After all, love wasn't something to be spurned or thrown away. Love was always worth seizing with both hands when it was offered to you. Living under the threat of Voldemort for so long should have taught her that. When all was said and done, there could be little more important than sharing your life with someone who loved you.

Ginny turned her back to the window and left the room.


End file.
